The Staring Contest
by MagickBeing
Summary: Draco Malfoy had developed a nasty habit of staring at Harry Potter until, one day, Harry couldn't take it anymore. He confronted Draco—why was he staring? Because he wanted something. And a Malfoy always gets what he wants. Oneshot, Drarry.


**Pairing: **Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter. That's right, surprise surprise—it's Drarry, folks!

**Rating: **T.**  
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**Summary:** Draco Malfoy had developed a nasty habit of staring at Harry Potter until, one day, Harry couldn't take it anymore. He confronted Draco—why was he staring? Because he wanted something. And a Malfoy always gets what he wants.

**Disclaimer: **Harry Potter and co. are property of J.K. Rowling and her various publishers. No copyright infringement is intended.

**A/N: **I needed a bit of a break from the story I'm currently working (which will hopefully be posted soon!) and this was the result. Apparently, a bit of Drarry fluff is what I needed to get my inspiration flowing again. (: As always, please, _please_ R&R! Con-crit would be appreciated.

**The Staring Contest**

by MagickBeing

He was staring. He had been staring for the past ten minutes. Harry could feel it—his steady gaze was making his skin prickle, the hairs on the back of his neck standing on edge. He tapped his fingers impatiently along the edge of the table, trying to concentrate on the words in front of him. A shiver ran down his spine, involuntarily, uncontrollably—he licked his lips, moving forward a bit in his seat, sitting along the very edge of the chair. His entire body was tense. Why the hell was he staring? He glanced up, meeting Draco Malfoy's heated look with a pointed one of his own. Draco's face was almost blank, expressionless, save for his eyes. His eyes were bright, focused and calculating. Unnerving, really, and bloody annoying. Didn't most people look away once they were caught staring? He only held Draco's gaze for a moment before looking back down, uncomfortable with the intensity of it.

Unfortunately, and strangely enough, this wasn't the first time they had had this silent battle of wills. It had happened several times throughout the past few days. Harry was completely determined to ignore the other, refusing to let him get under his skin, although it was quite apparent that his determination was waning and his efforts were futile. No matter what he did, Draco managed to get under his skin. It was as if the other were silently urging Harry to crack, break under his gaze, and he was patiently holding it until Harry did just that.

Harry swallowed, licking his lips again, and half-considered just leaving. But would that be admitting defeat?

He frowned down at his textbook, bouncing his knee up and down.

Why wouldn't Malfoy just stop staring? And how did he manage to pop up where ever Harry was? Okay, so classes were easy to explain—as were the intense looks in the Great Hall—but the library? The corridors on the west side of the castle, three stories up? The edge of the Forbidden Forest? The path leading up from Hagrid's hut? Draco had been _everywhere _lately, but he never challenged Harry verbally. There were no sharp words or witty insults. He simply stared, completely silent and utterly annoying.

Harry looked at Draco out of his peripheral vision. The goosebumps on his arms did not decieve him—he was still staring. Harry exhaled sharply until finally, his head snapped up and he bit out, "Is there something I can _help _you with, Malfoy?"

He couldn't bloody take it anymore. Draco was driving him mad!

Draco simply stared. That same unreadable, intense stare.

Harry frowned, narrowing his eyes at the other.

What the hell was he playing at?

He voiced this thought out-loud.

"What the hell are you playing at, Malfoy? Trying to move up in the world—first a Death Eater's son, and now a stalker?"

He thought he saw the corner of Draco's mouth twitch, but he couldn't be certain. Pushing his chair back, he grimaced at the sharp sound it made. Luckily, Madame Pince was nowhere in sight and they were in a more secluded section of the library. He stood, thankful that his legs didn't shake underneath him. So what if Draco was managing to make him a nervous wreck? He hardly wanted the other to know that he was succeeding in what ever twisted little plan he had managed to think up.

Harry walked—no, almost _stomped _over to Draco, his jaw set. He was going to get an answer, dammit.

Even if it was the last thing he did.

Draco's eyes followed him, never leaving his face, until Harry was within arm's reach. Harry met Draco's gaze with a determined, irritated one of his own, his irritation growing when he realized that Draco didn't even flinch. His eyes held none of the cold anger or disgust they usually did when Harry was in question. Instead they held—well, Harry didn't quite know what they held. Draco's eyes, and face, were unreadable.

"Let me rephrase myself, _Malfoy,_" Harry muttered, practically growling. He spoke slowly, emphasizing each word. "What. The. Bloody. Hell. Do. You. _Want?"_

Nothing could have surprised him more than Draco's answer, simple and straight to the point: "You."

Harry's mouth opened slightly and he gave Draco a disbelieving look. He couldn't have heard that right.

"_Excuse _me?"

Draco tilted his head a bit to the side, looking up at Harry almost thoughtfully.

"I _said, _Potter, that I want _you. _I suggest you don't make me repeat myself."

His voice was soft, rather matter-of-fact, and almost a bit amused. Harry swallowed hard, shutting his mouth and furrowing his brow. He half-glared at Draco. _He _wanted _Harry? _For what? Target practice? Harry scrunched his nose in irritation, folding his arms in front of his chest, and settled for shaking his head at the other, his eyes hard.

"You're off your bloody rocker, Malfoy."

Draco raised an eyebrow at him, but the gesture was but a moment long before his face smoothed, again expressionless.

"Quite possibly," he said quietly, standing so that his eyes were level with Harry's. "I am feeling quite.. mad, these days."

Harry furrowed his brow, opening his mouth to say something—but what? Was he going to ask Draco why, or how? Was he going to ask him to elaborate? This entire situation was beginning to feel a bit strange to Harry—okay, so it had been a bit strange for a while now, but the reality of the whole ordeal was just beginning to sink in. He settled with giving Draco a strange look, shaking his head again.

"What ever, Malfoy."

If anything, Draco were just reinforcing the idea that he was off of his bloody rocker. Maybe he had taken his father being sent to Azkaban a bit harder than everyone thought.

Draco stepped forward, close enough to Harry so that he could feel his breath on his face. Harry shifted uncomfortably, moving to step backwards, away from him, when Draco reached out and grabbed his wrist. The touch was sudden, spontaneous and very forbidden. It almost burned with its unfamiliarity. Harry and Draco had never touched. Not intentionally, at least. Despite encouragement from other students, their arguments had never became physical. They had withdrawn their wands on occasion, but that was the extent of their anger. This—this touch was new, forbidden, and as Harry moved to pull back in surprise, he realized how gentle it was. Draco certainly had a firm grasp on Harry's wrist, but it was not demanding or painful. It was questioning, borderline friendly but so much more.

Harry remained where he was, his eyes locked on Draco's. Suddenly, he was unable to pull away, and unable to speak. He could only stare, his gaze as intense and unreadable as Draco's had been before.

Draco's mouth twisted into a small, rare, but genuine smile.

He moved closer.

"I told you, Potter. I want _you._"

His eyes broke away from Harry's for a split second, surveying his face and lingering on his mouth before returning their captivating hold on him. Harry swallowed hard, his thoughts an incoherent blur. He almost felt incapable of putting together a solid thought—this, all of this, was new. Different, and he hadn't decided if it was in a good or bad way yet. Draco's hand was still around his wrist as firm as ever, and yet Harry felt perfectly safe. Draco wasn't standing in a way that was threatening or dangerous. He looked to be completely at ease with himself and his surroundings, and he was standing close enough that Harry could feel his body heat. He became very aware of his breath ghosting his face.

Draco was a bit shorter than him, he noticed absently.

Draco licked his lips, his mouth twisted into that small smile—the sort of smile that conveyed the idea that he knew something Harry didn't. Curiously enough, Harry felt inclined to find out what that thing was.

"And a Malfoy always gets what he wants," Draco stated quietly, his words barely registering in Harry's mind before he was leaning forward, catching Harry off guard by capturing his lips with his own.

Harry stiffened, his eyes staring at Draco's closed ones. Draco's lips were pressed firmly against his own, not quite demanding but hardly pleading. His mouth was almost questioning, soft but unfaltering. Without reason, Harry's own eyes slipped shut and, hesitantly, he kissed back, parting his mouth slightly against Draco's. If Harry were to question himself right then, he possibly would have pulled away and made a beeline for St. Mungo's—so instead, he let his mind rest and simply acted, following what ever impulse controlled him.

Draco parted his mouth in response to Harry's, and gently licked at his bottom lip. Harry found himself moving into the action, pressing himself a bit closer to Draco and letting his tongue meet the other's. The kiss was hardly perfect—it was questioning and a bit uncomfortable—wet—but gentle and exploring. After a long minute of this, Draco pulled away and opened his eyes. Harry followed suit, his lips wet from Draco's. Their eyes met and they stared at each other for a long moment. Just as Draco were about to say something, Harry moved forward and captured his mouth again.

Really, they were beyond staring—and they were certainly beyond words.

In retrospect, Harry was fairly certain he knew what Draco was going to say; a Malfoy always got what he wanted.


End file.
